Conflict Within
by snapsforsnape
Summary: Which category does Snape belong to? A story about his inner struggle to find where he belongs.
1. Ambiguous Identity

Conflict

Cowardice. What is cowardice? Fleeing from your problems. Turning a blind eye to all you know is wrong. Serving yourself not caring how many people are hurt or maimed in the process. Hoping, dreaming that one-day life will become easy and you'll never have had to lift a finger. Defying those who care for you only to wallow in your own self-pity. Never fighting back. Being a submissive fool who just stands by watching the world burn. I am no coward.

Courage. What is courage? Living to fight another day in order to accomplish the impossible. Solving the problems for those too weak to take care of it themselves, yet never asking for anything in return. Taking the pain, the torment and holding it within, refusing to satisfy the sadistic bastards that deliver it. Every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears spilled, all in the name of the people. Tearing control away from those unworthy to have it. Taking control. Not standing by. I am not courageous.

I am Severus Snape. Death Eater and Order of the Phoenix member alike. Never will I have their full trust. Never will I _give _them my full trust. I am neither good nor bad, courageous no cowardice. I don't fit any black or white categories. There are many stages in between. Varying shades of grey. I am in limbo, straddling the thin line.

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A/N: This is my first fanfiction. Any advice is appreciated so please please comment and review.


	2. I must admit

Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the magical world created by J.K Rowling nor the characters in it.

A/N: I truly am sorry for the ginormous delay in update. I intended this to be a one-shot, but with encouragement I have decided to continue with it. There will be around 2-3 more chapters. I'm sure by the time you finish reading this you can gather what the next one will be about. I'm trying to pull everything back to the first chapter, but we'll see how well that works out I guess. I think my writing style and word choice has changed a bit these past couple months. Let me know what you think. Your reviews are very much appreciated and I will try to get back to everyone of you ; )

Enjoy

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Is this all I'll ever know? Am I condemned to this sorry state forever?

I arrive home- if one could call it as much- from the meetings trembling with suppressed fury. For every time I must kneel at the foot of a monster, throwing my dignity out the window and replacing it with pitiful please of " Master" and "My Lord". Even as my spine curves forcing itself into a bow, I am scraping for some semblance of respect. How disgusting that I still look for recognition from the Dark Lord for all the wretched acts I have committed. I thought myself changed, but I see I am still as twisted and pathetic as ever. Still though, I pride myself in my ability to remain silent even as the Crucitaus curse tears through my body, feeling as if my muscles are being siphoned from the bone.

The Dark Lord takes intense pleasure at screaming, writhing victims. He shouts for me to scream or the pain will be ten times worse. I swallow the guttural cry because despite what he may say, I know he prize's me above all others for having the strength to control my body and mind so well. The clenching of my jaw and tightening of my fists does not go unnoticed and he seems to derive some interest in my struggle to remain inaudible. I must take what I can get, for the little morsels of detail I attain for the Order come at a great personal cost. They don't realize the hell I go through to gain a tidbit of information that will most likely end up being useless to them. But it is a necessity, something that needs to be done because "No one but you can do it" or so Dumbledore tells me. It is a simple matter though- no one has the stomach or warped mind such as I, to handle it.

An abrupt kick to the chest is enough to bring me sharply back to reality. When did I fall to the ground I muse, the damp grass cool beneath my cheek? Immediately, icy fingers probe my mind looking for the Order's secrets kept behind what I hope is an impenetrable fortress. The frigid fingers withdraw. The higher powers above are with me, I am spared yet another week.

A simple wave of the hand and we are dismissed from being humble servants. I can go back to being more or less myself, not the submissive fool those dark men believe me to be. A new front must be put in place- that of an uncaring louse. With the exception of Albus, everyone has written me off for I have committed deeds equally horrendous of the devil himself. Who can blame them? I for one agree.

The wards on my quarters dissolve at my magical signature. I want nothing more than to sink down in my leather armchair while enjoying a fine glass of brandy. That suppressed ire must first be gratified. In a blind fit of rage I hurl the nearest glass object at the wall watching the shards pierce what I thought was supposed to be stone. Perhaps this is a sign- Voldemort will one day pierce my stone solid shields and I will be shattered like the glass now laying on the floor in fragments. No- I can't- I won't think about what lies ahead just now.

My exhausted from the night's events begins to seep its way into my bones. Slumping against the wall I close my eyes, shutting out the evening's horrors: the little girl's terrified eyes as I approached her. Those brilliant emerald eyes not unlike Lily's dim and glazed over as death took yet another prisoner. I felt powerless, her last breath whispered against my cheek, her pulse stuttered, and then paused forever beneath my fingertips.

A strangled sob escaped my lips and I dropped my head into my hands. Tear after tear rolled shamelessly down my cheeks. For now, I was safe to wallow in my misery. Tomorrow, at the Order meeting, I would be forced to deflect insults off my armor as if they didn't affect me one bit. Sirius Black would tell me just how heartless I really was, a coward even. I would be utterly defenseless against this affront because I knew I was a coward. And though I would never admit it aloud, the word strikes a chord down deep, impacts me more than any other could. I will prove to them all I am no coward, but first I must prove it to myself.


	3. And the Light Evades the Dark

A/N: Wooo! The next chapter is here. I would like to thank all of you who reviewed because they always made my day. Seriously, any bad day was made instantly better when I say the view in my inbox. I am currently writing another fanfiction for NaNoWriMo. I'd be very appreciative if you all would check it out and give some feedback. I'm still unsure of where to go with it so any suggestions will certainly be taken into account. Back to CW: Any constructive criticism is welcome, as is comments on characters or plot. I really do listen to what you have to say so please don't hold back. I hope this is a satisfactory chapter and it's quite late so I will now be turning in. Enjoy and know that this fic is my pride and joy and I won't abandon it. Just be patient with me ; D

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Hideous. The reflection staring back at me with hollow eyes and waxen skin belongs not to a man with high morals; but to me, a man struck down time and time again. Not even a splash of water refreshes my unsightly complexion. For years I've known I'm not pleasant to the eye, but this reaffirmation of that fact does nothing to improve my morning.

**Ring Ring**

The alarm goes off, but I was up long ago. The horrors that plague me when I'm awake, do not have the courtesy to cease when I sleep. The nameless faces and disembodied voices startle me from my troubled sleep and I find myself breathing harshly with sweat trickling down my temple. And so ends my far from nurturing rest. My body aches and I realize I have yet to change into more appropriate robes. I still don those of my Death Eater meeting and they are caked in dirt and blood. Disgusted, I shirk them off and outfit myself in the usual black, multilayered garbs. They do an extraordinary job of hiding the tremors and signs of distress- too good almost.

I sigh. The cupboards are creaking with vials to be filled for Madam Promfrey's stores. On the desk lay unmarked essays lacking the dismal grades they will surely deserve. To my right is my notebook stained and tattered from my fit the night before. I scoffed, I hadn't yet written down the account of the Death Eater meeting. Unfortunately for me it remained shockingly intelligible. The Order would have to be patient for me to edit my report as I went long.

The clock now read 6:00 a.m and I strode to the fireplace. No one would think anything of my weathered appearance. The only one I had to look out for was Dumbledore. He has the frustrating habit of pushing for things he need not know. My shields flew up and the stony façade took over. I must reprise the role of heartless potions master in order to get through the meeting unscathed. Sirius would of course test my self restraint, but I was prepared. The sobs had long ago run their course and I would be free of any problematic emotions with my barriers at their strongest.

I threw the powder into the fireplace and a brilliant virescent flame issued forth. Once again I was haunted by that young girl's eyes and the bloodless lips of the Dark Lord as she breathed her last breath. Any further delay in my departure would result in being late and Moody would certainly cry treason on me. I stepped into the flames and muttered 'Number 12 Grimmauld Place'. Bile rose in my throat from both the spinning sensation and recollection of the girl so similar in look to Lily. My feet found solid ground and I stepped forward into the gothic residence. This morning was proving to be more difficult than I expected. Dumbledore came up beside and lay a gentle hand on my shoulder. The unexpected display of affection alarmed me and I flinched from the contact. When he drew his hand away it was stained with crimson blood. Dumbledore studied me with a saddened expression, his normally twinkling azure eyes muted in color. All he did was turn away to leave me silent in his wake. Here I was; Severus Snape pitied, but not worthy of either party's care. The dark won't fully have me, and the light deals with me because they must. Not even the great Albus Dumbledore considers me worthy of his time. I realize my cold exterior prevents individuals from approaching, but in the presence of Albus my eyes convey a different message; that of a desperate plea for help. Perhaps my attempt is just too feeble, but I don't dare appear any weaker.


	4. What It Takes

Yay, one more chapter. There will be one more coming after this... or maybe 1 1/2. I would like to extend a huge amount of thanks to SeverusSnape19. I have recently been swamped by an incredible amount of work, and it was she who encouraged me and told me to keep going. Please review. Constructive criticism is, as always, welcome

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I stood still long enough to see the Headmaster's eccentric cloak whip out of sight behind the closed doors of the kitchen. I looked towards the fireplace longily. Behind that portal lay a bed and numeorus potions with which to dull the pain and horrifying images that resonated throughout my whole being. I sought numbness, but was resigned to feeling. I sought solice and solitude but was once again forced to comply with the wishes of the manipulative Headmaster.***********************

I straightened up, slipping my indeffirent demeanor in place and hastened to the kitchen. My entrance would undeniably be noticed. I could only hope the Headmaster would take it upon himself to defend me.

I raised my arm to the door handle and could not help but wince as the crusted blood on my shoulder cracked and strained with the new effort. With one last shuddering sigh I heaved the door open and tread heavily to my seat beside Albus.

Everyone was milling about, talking to whomever. At my entrance they all turned around and fell silent casting nervous looks at their collegues.

"Headmaster" I murmed and bowed slightly before carefully seating myself.

He dipped his head in ackknowledgment before turning to the groupd to ask them to kindly take their seats.

I caught the eye of Siruis Black and sneered as he opened his mouth to no doubt remark on my delay. Upon seeing the animosity in my eyes, he thought better of it and clamped his lips tightly together.

"Now that Severus has begruddingly arrived we may begin." He clapped me on the back, trying to reassure me of his joking comment. I knew however, there was some degree of truth whenever he spoke to me in jest.

I surveyed Black up and down, finally setting my cold, calculating gaze on his eyes. The feral look received from Azkaban had long ago disappeared from the mutt's appearance. Instead, he looked at me with a mixture of contempt and disgust. No harm done though, the feeling was mutual.

I looked down to my hands, which were relentless in their twitching. Slowly, I steepled them beneath my chin and cleared my throat.

"Headmaster. If I may report earlier rather than later… there are a great number of tasks awaiting me back at the castle." I looked up at him perhaps a bit to eager.

"I believe that can be arranged Severus. Though it looks like a good hour or two of extra sleep should be at the top of your to do list."

Before I could reply he brought the group back to attention and gave the floor to me.

Taking great care with my delivery I began. "Before you all cry treason, I had no knowledge of the attacks this past week. I was called, I followed, and I carried out my duties. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to these attacks and that is the best I can offer."

Black of all people spoke up "And what do these _duties_ entail Snape?"

"Use your imagination mutt!" My words came out caustic and aiming to hurt.

In a vain attempt to gain the upperhand, Sirius fired right back at me, "There is no need. How many children were found dead this week?"

I paled. He had no right to assume the worst in me. Is it not enough that I go out of my way to protect the Dark Lord's victims from harm? Is it not enough I endure more than anyone to help the hapless recipients of the Death Eaters perverse form of entertainment?

Of course not. No one knows the slightest of what happens at the "meetings."

Quietly, hoping others would see that I was _not_ okay with what I was about to say next, I murmured, " Nine. Nine were killed. Several others injured…"

Molly gasped and covered her hand over her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes. My own closed. I had no desire to see the many horrified expressions no doubt gracing the faces of the Order members.

I thought I had shocked Black into silence, but he still pursued the topic.

"Monster!" He growled in a low voice, the mutt in him making an appearance.

Responding will get you nowhere I thought to myself. Still, Black continued. "Don't you get enough of torturing kids in that pointless class of yours?"

My jaw clenched, my brow furrowed, but other than that my face remained impassive.

"I give you a chance to defend yourself and you stay silent. Speak up! You think yourself brave?"

At that I erupted. The little girl's green eyes flashed before me. The strong pulse turned thready and weak as her lifeblood seeped onto the ground.

"Enough!" I roared. "I had no desire harm those muggles- much less the children. It takes far more courage to stand and do nothing, than compromise my position by diving in headfirst!" My shoulders heaved and my breath came out in irregular puffs. I leaned forward, placing my hands on the table while my hair fell around my face.

"I assure you Black, I spare all those I can. You should not be so quick to judge. Next time you read that godamned paper, triple the death count. That is what you would get without my interference."

It seemed Dumbledore finally decided to intervene. " I do believe that is enough Severus."

"Yes Snivellus. Listen to your Master."

"Sirius!" Dumbledore said sharply, "That is enough from you too."

"I hardly deem it necessary to attend this meeting any longer. I will be going now." I said with my eyes trained on the ground. The Headmaster was disappointed in me, and I in myself.

As I turned to exit Molly shot up in her sit. I expected a harsh reprimand, but her words shocked me. " Severus. Your shoulder?"

I glanced at my injured appendage. Only the mother of Fred and George would be able to spot the hint of crimson liquid staining my robes.

I paused with my hand on the door, fully debating whether or not to answer.

" The price for giving the girl a decent burial." I left it at that and swiftly departed the room, leaving a stunned mother in my wake.


	5. In Their Hands

A/N: This is the last chapter. I tried to bring it full circle back to the beginning, I hope I succeeded! Please let me know your thoughts. As a side note... We painted a Quidditch pitch at our school today for our Quidditch club!!!!

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I longed for fresh air, for some place to scream to the wind with only a whisper in return. Immediately after stumbling through the fireplace I sprinted towards the astronomy tower. Somewhere between my chambers and the exit from the dungeons, I stripped myself of the black frock coat I am so famous for. Beneath I wore my pristine white collared shirt, which at the moment only served to restrict my breathing as I became increasingly more frantic. My long strides shortened and I resigned to dragging my weary body up the steps, my arm splayed carelessly over the banister. With every labored step my heart grew heavier and my control less prominent.

In reality my journey lasted all of five minutes. In my mind where every minute threw me deeper into despair, I felt like I had just weathered a tremendous storm lasting hours on end. Looking out upon the grounds of Hogwarts I saw only beauty. But what is such beauty in a world riddled with pain and unsightly sores? I alone am one man, one man who is still unsure of his purpose and place. My students gain nothing from the sinister bat of the dungeons who must say that the Dark Lord is alive, yet unable to touch them. I should know best that the Dark Lord can, and will, harm whomever he wishes. His influence extends far and his fury even further. He could pluck a student from their seat or intercept them on their way to Hogsmede. He could reach them through post, floo, or bribery. They are never far from his sphere of power. I can only stand by and watch them grapple with the fierce force striking them at every angle.

The thoughts are too much. Hands claw at my head trying desperately to get rid of the negative musings my mind can't seem to expel. A gut-wrenching wail escapes my bloodless lips and I breakdown. A Snape is never supposed to cry but I indulge, for I am weak. I cried for my students who are still unaware of what they must face when their time at Hogwarts ends. I cried for my collogues who, even now, fail to comprehend the peril we must imminently confront. I cried for Lily and all the dead who followed in her wake. And lastly, I cried for myself and my inability to mend the wounds of the world. When the tears ran their course for the second that night, I wiped furiously at my eyes. Even though shame crept onto my face, the wind soothed the burning and offered a degree of comfort.

I gazed out across the grounds and looked down below at the placid lake. A profound sense of insignificance swept over me. In this world I am only one. Coward or no coward, I will forever remain a tiny speck in the whole of human existence. The sun began to ascend, peeking its golden rays from the blanket of the night and at that moment I realized something.

I am but an instrument of two beings greater than myself. They alone decide my role in this war, my impending death or silent triumph. For now, I simply stand in the shadows. The shadows which blur the line between courage and cowardice, blindly running from fear or standing down the beast. I hide in these shadows, struggling with my conflict within.


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